


to make you notice me

by MsBliss



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Assault of a Popsicle, First Crush, Lingerie, M/M, Misunderstandings, accidental dick pic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBliss/pseuds/MsBliss
Summary: Peter knows what he looks like.He’s caught men’s eyes trailing the length of his neck. Felt their gaze linger on the slenderness of his legs. He knows they’re picturing the same videos he watches late at night with his door locked and his headphones in. Clips of lithe young twinks being bent in half, their calves thrown over the arms of older men with dark hair. Close ups panning to black stubble rubbing ruthlessly against any stretch of pale skin within reach.He knows, okay, he gets it.It’s just that those looks are never from the one person Peter actually wants them to belong to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first posted fic in two years :')
> 
> based on this [post](https://the-mad-starker.tumblr.com/post/174759513451/starker-dirty-thoughts/)  
> by the-mad-starker.tumblr.com

Peter knows what he looks like. 

He’s caught men’s eyes trailing the length of his neck. Felt their gaze linger on the slenderness of his legs. He knows they’re picturing the same videos he watches late at night with his door locked and his headphones in. Clips of lithe young twinks being bent in half, their calves thrown over the arms of older men with dark hair. Close ups panning to black stubble rubbing ruthlessly against any stretch of pale skin within reach. 

He knows, okay, he gets it. 

It’s just that those looks are never from the one person Peter actually wants them to belong to. 

At first he’d assumed, like most people, that Mr Stark was straight. His crush seemed like one of those impossible fantasies; something to keep him warm at night and to overcompensate for, with an eagerness to please, in their daily interactions. 

Until he’d overheard a discussion between Mr Stark and Ms Potts in the kitchen at Stark Tower.  

“How do you even find these people,” Ms Potts had sighed, her tone prompting Peter to skid to a halt before making his presence known. He’d pressed himself against the wall beside the entrance to the kitchen, curiosity outweighing the guilt of eavesdropping. 

Mrs Potts interrupted whatever Mr Stark had been about to stay. “Don’t answer that, Tony. I genuinely don’t want to know.”

“He wasn’t a reporter or a employee,” there was a pause from Mr Stark, “I’ve done worse.”

Peter hadn’t needed to be in the room to know the exact expression Pepper Potts would be aiming in Mr Stark’s direction. 

“You should not be ranking the people you sleep with on a scale of how bad they are for your reputation.” The frank comment startled a huffed laugh out of Peter, until his brain caught up to the words, then he choked on it.

They were talking about someone Mr Stark had slept with. A  _he_. 

Peter had retreated, fist in his mouth to stop any hysteria that might slip out on his way back towards the workshop. It had been hard to continue working on with Mr Stark afterwards. He’d barely been able to look the older man in the eye knowing full well that his impossible fantasy was starting to look a little less fantastical and a little more anchored in the realm of reality. 

It was a downward spiral from there.

Knowledge was a dangerous weapon and Peter’s curiosity knew no bounds. It started with catching the eyes of men who looking at him appraisingly, not fighting the flush creeping across his cheeks and letting his tongue slip out to wet his lips. It devolved into fluttering eyelashes at strangers on public transport, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip, trailing a hand down his neck as he stretched. He learned how to make men’s throats dip as they swallowed hard and clench their fingers into fists on their thighs just from a series of small movements. Safe enough on the other side of the train, surrounded by people, to tease without fear of having to take it any further.

Empowered and emboldened, he had been unable to resist trialing it on Mr Stark. He’d tilt his head back and glance at the other man from beneath his lashes, his smile lazy and slow as Mr Stark explained a newly programmed feature of the spider suit.

“Let me know if you encounter glitches before you take it apart, I need to record…Parker, you look like you’re about to fall asleep. Did you stay up too late last night?”

Peter had blinked a little dumbly, head coming back down into it’s usual position. “Uh, no?” 

Mr Stark huffed and tapped the tablet in front of him. “I thought you were interested in this. If you’re not there’s other things we could be looking at.” 

Guilt shot through Peter at Mr Stark’s furrowed brow. “No, no, no, I am interested! Honestly! I just spaced out for a second, I’m listening, you said I need to record the glitch before I try to correct it so you can track the build process.”

Mr Stark had shaken his head with a wry grin and tilted the screen back towards Peter to continue. 

The second time, Peter had thrown in some lip licking for good measure. It had gone about as well as the first time with Mr Stark offering him some lip balm because his lips must be chapped if he’s licking them that frequently. 

The third time, feeling more than a little frustrated Peter had practically choked himself on a popsicle which earned him an amused pat on the head and a “slow down kid, there’s a whole box in the freezer if you love them that much” from Mr Stark.

 _Kid,_  Peter had thought venomously, biting down hard on the ice treat and crunching it angrily between his teeth. That was the issue then. Mr Stark didn’t even see him as a sexual being because he saw Peter, certified legal adult Peter, as a child. 

Throwing the paddlepop stick in the bin, Peter had slung his backpack over his shoulder and left Stark Tower without saying goodbye. On the train ride home he agonised over what to do. 

Pros of confronting Mr Stark and confessing his feelings - no more uncertainty, no more obsessing over what could be, finding out how Mr Stark feels, possible sex.

Cons of confronting Mr Stark and confessing his feelings - finding out how Mr Stark feels, rejection, not being able to see Mr Stark anymore because there is no way in hell Peter is going to stick around and swim in that embarrassment and shame for the rest of eternity. 

By the time he let himself into his apartment, he’d all but made up his mind. Knowing was better than not knowing. He just needed a way to communicate his intent without bringing the whole world crashing down around him. 

Peter paced in his room, tossing his phone from one hand to the other. How could he get Mr Stark to see what was right in front of him? How could he do that while giving himself an easy out…

He threw his phone up and caught it, stared at it for a heartbeat and then grinned.

_Eureka._

It takes him over an hour to get the shot. 

He wants it to be perfect. The perfect angle, the perfect lighting. Enticing but not crude. He’s hard within a couple of strokes, it doesn’t take much, just the daydream of one of his favourite porn videos juxtaposed with him and Mr Stark as the actors. 

He takes a hundred photos, each of them only slightly different from the next. In some of them he’s half clothed, cock peaking out out of the top of his jeans, beads of precome glistening from the flash. In others he’s on his side in bed, completely naked, body cast half in the shadows of the setting sun. It shows the round curve of his ass and the dip of his waist, his cock pressed firmly up and dripping down the side of him stomach onto the bed. 

He’s almost finished when he thinks about the box under his bed. It’s cliche, having it settled among the boxes of parts he uses to for projects but its not like Aunt May is interested in searching through wires and broken phone junk. 

He digs through the box until he finds the red pair of panties he’d bought on a whim months ago. He’d worn them once, on a visit to Stark Tower, underneath his jeans and had to excuse himself, after only twenty minutes of sitting next to Mr Stark, to jerk off in one of the nearby bathrooms.

They’d had too much power over him then. He’d conquer them now.

Peter pulled the lace panties on, taking a minute to rub at the material over his skin. The red looked good, he hoped it had the same effect on Mr Stark that it had, had on him.

He retakes the last couple of shots with the addition of the panties and falls back into his bed, lazily pulling at his length as he flicks through filters with his free hand. He picks one on him standing in front of the window with the sun going down.

There’s enough light to catch the redness of the underwear against his pale skin. It follows the line of his ass as he stands sideways and reveals the weeping head of his cock poking out of the top, the rest of it trapped close to his body by the lace. His whole face isn’t in the image but his lips are, open and glistening and to anyone who knows him, it’s easy to see its Peter. 

Once he has the image the way he wants it his brain freezes.

He has to actually send it now.

Peter’s heart starts to kick up its pace and his anxious excitement makes his dick jump in agreement. With shaky fingers Peter starts to queue up the image to send to Mr Stark, fully prepared escape route ready to copy and paste from his notes in the event he doesn’t get the response he’s wanting.

_Omg Mr Stark I am SO SORRY that wasn’t meant to be sent to you, I was just trying them on and I don’t have a mirror in my room and I couldn’t see what they looked like and I meant to select delete but Aunt May came home and knocked on my door and it startled me and I accidentally pressed send and you were the last person I messaged so it went to you but it wasn’t meant for you, please just ignore it and pretend like you didn’t get it, I’m so so sorry_

He has a brief panicked thought of  _maybe this is not the best way to go about things_  but he’s never been known for his impulse control so he hits send before he can think about it for another second. 

Oh god, he sent it. He sent Mr Stark a picture of his dick…and his ass…and his nipples. Mr Stark now knows what Peter Parker looks like naked. 

Peter throws his phone across the room in horror at his actions and stares at it where its landed on his pile of dirty laundry. 

Slumping back into bed with his hands over his face Peter groans. He should have just talked to Mr Stark like the adult he wants the older man to see him as. Not the dirty kid who sends unsolicited dick pics because he’s sick of being horny and ignored all the time.

It fees like an eternity passes but in reality it’s probably only five minutes. Peter’s too scared to check his phone and he’s definitely too anxious to jerk off now, his dick went soft the second he hit the send text message button.

Checking his Aunt is still at work, Peter opts for a shower to cool down and distract himself. He spends as long in there as he can, washing his hair, conditioning his hair, washing his body, counting the tiles of the shower wall. When he comes out he forces himself to check his phone. Twenty minutes have passed; no reply.

Peter starts to freak out. His fingers fly over his phone and he queues up his excuse message ready to send. He starts pacing his room again, attempting to justify what’s happening to himself. Mr Stark has to have seen the photo by now. If he doesn’t have his phone on him, Jarvis tells Mr Stark whenever he has a new message and brings it up on whatever device is nearest. Peter’s seen it on a regular basis.

He starts imagining it happening while Mr Stark is talking to Ms Potts or even worse  _Happy_. He pictures the nice, professional, friendly business conversation being interrupted without warning by Peter’s penis being flicked up on the big screen by Jarvis. 

_What has he_ **_done?_ **

He makes up his mind to send his backstory apology when Mr Stark’s message comes through. Peter yells in surprise and fumbles his phone clumsily in an attempt not to accidentally send his excuse. 

He brings it up to his face with quaking hands, his heart in his throat, and almost swallows his tongue.

Because that is not an angry message informing Peter he’s ruining a business meeting with his dick.

It’s an image of what has to be Tony Stark’s naked body because there’s a way too familiar hand wrapped around his swollen cock. The arc reactor is left out of the picture but Peter would recognise those corded forearms anywhere. The way his hand is gripping his cock looks borderline painful but so does how hard it is. Tony’s dick looks almost purple, like all the blood in his body had gone south at the sight of Peter’s photo.

Where his picture had been a tantalizing tease, Tony had skipped over playing games and gone straight for pure desperation. It’s so blatantly demanding that Peter almost misses the accompanying text: “Quid pro quo, Parker. Get that ass back here. Bring the panties.” 

Peter moves without thinking. He throws on clothes, shoves his feet into his shoes and flies back out the door towards the subway.

He doesn’t bother with a reply. He’ll give one to Tony in person. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This as EVOLVED. There's going to be a third chapter which I didn't intend but I didn't want to rush through it all and I was having a lot of fun writing Tony's perspective. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone's lovely comments, they really helped me feel good about returning to writing so BLESS YOU.

Tony is a lot of things. Oblivious isn't one of them.

He's been around the block enough times to know when someone is interested in him. Ten years ago that thought would have been entirely ego driven. Now it's an awareness that sits outside of his conscious. A vague ding of acknowledgement in the back of his mind that  _they're interested_.

Most of the time it doesn't even register anymore. It's a brief thought, quickly dismissed unless sex is something Tony's actively searching for in that moment. It doesn't excite him like it used to, the sly smiles and hands on his arm that tug with gentle persuasion.

He knows they only want Tony Stark. They don't actually want  _him_ and frankly he has better things to do than spend an hour pretending to be the person he used to be.

So when his brain catches onto what's happening around him and tells him when he's up to his elbows in a prototype suit that Peter Parker hasn't be able to tear his eyes away from Tony's arms, instead of what he's doing with them, it's not really something that registers. 

 _He's interested_ , his brain says and Tony mentally shrugs and continues to explain what he's doing. Because it's just like every other time before hand and Tony's busy, he does not want to have to go wash his hands of oil so he can-

Tony pauses, hands freezing on the wiring inside the suit, and looks at Parker. The kid,  _young man_ his mind corrects, has a soft flush to his face and his eyes are glazed as he stares at Tony's arms. He's definitely not thinking about wire connection. Not in the way Tony's been explaining, anyway. 

There's a stirring in his stomach, a sensation he hasn't felt in too long. He almost shoves it into the recesses of his mind to continue when he thinks better of it.

Parker isn't like every other person. He knows knows Tony's not the man from television or the internet. Not the billionaire playboy and not the dangerous vigilante news outlets paint him as. Parker knows  _Tony_ , he knew of him before and he knows who he is now, intimately, Tony is surprised to admit to himself. It's not an on paper internship but Parker visits Stark Tower every week so they can work on projects together, on and off the books. It's a working relationship as close to friendship as the one he has with Bruce. 

And Parker is  _interested_. 

Tony forces himself to finish up the wiring in the suit as quickly as possible.

Pepper's going to shit a brick if she finds out.

"That's enough for today, Parker," Tony says, wiping his hands on a rag. 

Peter blinks rapidly and then shakes his head. "Oh, is it eight already?"

"It's five but I'm sure you could use an afternoon off." Really, Tony just needs some space so he can think about this.

Peter pulls a face. "This is my afternoon off."

"Exactly. You're welcome to spend the afternoon in the Tower, I'm going to head out." Tony knows that's not what Parker had meant but he needs air. Needs to process how he feels about this. 

He leaves Peter in the workshop and heads up to the Penthouse for privacy. He ends up sitting on the deck with a martini for countless hours, trying to remember when Peter had grown from a too eager to please, gangly teenager into a young man with a thing for forearms and older men.

It's easy to decide to leave well enough alone. Tony's almost tempted to call Pepper up and tell her just to point out that he is capable of making intelligent decisions. It's just that most of the time he doesn't want to. 

Peter's young, god he's so young, and he's still coming into himself. Experiencing arousal in relation to someone in a position of power is a familiar concept to Tony, he was twenty one, once upon a time. It's exhilarating and exciting. A completely common and somewhat tame erotic fantasy.

Really, who hasn't had a fantasy about being fucked by a boss, at some point?

Except, Tony isn't Peter's boss. He's his friend. His mentor. He actually  _cares_ about him. 

There's no harm in Peter having a little crush. He's not the same kind of person Tony was at that age. And Tony's  _old_ now. It's not like he could keep up anyway. He's always tired and suffering from the chronic pain of too many poorly treated injuries. He's not in danger of being consumed by lust over the idea of finding out what else makes Peter Parker blush like an English Rose.

Except, all of a sudden, he kind of is.

Now he's aware of it, it's like it's all he can see. 

Peter thinks he's being sneaky but the kid has the subtly of the Hulk in a dress. He has a distinct fascination with Tony's arms and hands, especially when they're deftly working. Tony finds himself fumbling in a way he hasn't since was under the intense scrutiny of his father. He's just lucky half the time Peter's too in his own head to notice.

And then there are times when it's Tony whose enchanted by Peter. He'll find himself leaning forward into the younger man's space to watch as his fingers fly over the holographic screen. Peter talks a mile a minute with a breathless passion that forces Tony to pull back so he doesn't end up breathing hot and heavy over the back of the kids neck.

There's something  _je ne sais quoi_ about Peter Parker when he's on a train of thought. Tony can't bring himself to interrupt, too transfixed to care that the time is rapidly approaching midnight.

The tension between them is comfortable. Peter doesn't know that Tony knows. It's safe. There's no harm to their relationship with the both of them admiring from a distance. It's friendly and companionable and although Tony sends Peter home most weeks wishing he could pull him back inside, it doesn't disrupt their normality. 

Given how insane Tony's life is, this slither of normality is all he has to cling onto.

So when Peter starts escalating his idolic admiration to practicing his flirting techniques, Tony's brain has a small meltdown.

Sure it's easy to remain distant from feelings when all he's doing is  _imagining_ what Peter would look like flashing Tony a beckoning look. It's another to be on the experiencing end of it.

The first couple of times Tony doesn't know how to react. On the outside pokerface is impenetrable but on the inside his brain is shooting off fireworks like it's Guy Fawkes night. 

He pretends not to notice because its the only respite he can give himself. He's too shocked to come up with a legitimate response to the situation. Which is a surprise in itself.

The next time it happens Tony has to put his foot down. It's beyond distracting. It's one thing to stare it's another for Peter to flutter his lashes and tilt his neck, all 'come hither' without having to say a single word.

He interrupts himself to ask Peter if he got enough sleep the night before because he looks tired. The kid blinks in confusion and Tony has to resist the urge to groan. 

He plays off the kid's guilt to get him to focus, which manages to keep them on track for the rest of the night. They actually manage to get through the new upgrade to Peter's suit with plans for Peter to trial run it during the week. 

The intention had been to spend the next session running over the diagnostics and correcting any bugs. Instead, Tony had to excuse himself to splash water on his face because Peter had started pairing those heated looks with slow swipes of a pink tongue over his bottom lip. 

He returned and threw a stick of lip balm at Peter in retaliation. 

The lip licking ceased for the rest of the afternoon to Tony's complete and utter relief. He all but shoved Peter out of the door at eight on the dot, slamming the door shut and palming his jeans where his cock was still half hard from arousal. 

Peter's wet lips filled his thoughts until well after midnight.

Lying sated but frustrated in his bed afterwards, Tony was inclined to cancel their next workshop. What was the kid playing at? Was it just harmless flirting practice because Peter felt comfortable around him? Because he trusted Tony not to cross a line?

Tony groaned into one of his pillows.

Half of him was pleased at the thought that Peter felt safe enough to trial his flirting techniques out on him. The other half was concerned about the lasting effects of blue balls. 

And a tiny little slither oh himself that he didn't want to acknowledge, told him that the idea of Peter doing anything romantic with anyone else made him sick with jealously.

Peter's in a mood the next time he comes over. It's startling to see. He's obviously frustrated about something. A better friend would ask Peter what was wrong. 

Tony's feeling selfish. He's too afraid the answer might be  _him_. 

 

"We're not being productive today," Tony says softly, taking the tablet out of Peter's hands and turning it off. "Let's just hang out in the rec room."

It's not something they usually do but Peter doesn't comment on it. He follows Tony out of the workshop and up a floor to the communal area. 

"You know where the food is, help yourself," Tony calls over his shoulder. He heads over to the television and queues up the drive of movies for Peter to choose from.

He ends up heading back to the kitchen to check on Peter and stops in his tracks once he gets the kid in sight.

Peter's got a popsicle and he's very determinedly trying to see how far he can take it down without choking. 

Tony closes his eyes and takes a moment to breath in through his nose.

He feels like Hercules being put through his ten trials. Except every trial is another level of Peter Parker experimenting with his sexuality. 

He musters up enough calm to plaster an amused smile on his face and walks into the kitchen, making his presence known. Peter's eyes light up and he smiles, lips stretched around the red ice lolly. He pulls it out of his mouth slowly, lips red and wet and gives the end a little suck to stop it from dripping onto his hand.

Tony's hand is shaking as he reaches out to pet Peter's head affectionately. It costs him everything not to grip that mop of hair in his fist and yank him forward. 

"Slow down kid, there's a whole box in the freezer if you love them that much."

Peter's expression turns downright murderous and Tony feels like he's stuck his foot in it. Whatever  _it_ is, he still has no idea but he's obviously gone about this the wrong way. 

Peter takes a large bite out of the popsicle and crunches down on the ice angrily. That's Tony's cue to retreat. He's not ready for whatever confrontation might be able to burst out of Peter's mouth.

He shuffles back to the lounge and collapses onto the sofa with a sigh. Peter's footsteps are distinct as they patter across the tiled floor towards the door. He slams it behind him and Tony let's his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. 

He's not sure what he's done wrong but he suspects Peter will let him know soon enough. 

The situation is a little too reminiscent of past relationships for Tony's liking.

He puts a movie on anyway, even though he's not paying attention to it. When the credits roll he contemplates going back to the workshop and losing himself in one of his projects, not surfacing for a few days; his own form of meditation.

He doesn't want to think, right now, not about anything beyond numbers and circuits and-

Jarvis' voice croons through the lounge speaker. "Sir, you have a new message from Peter Parker."

Tony sighs. "What is it?"

"It's an image."

That's...not what he was expecting. Suddenly concerned, Tony sits up and asks Jarvis to display it on the big screen. 

Peter's image flashes up immediately in wide screen detail and although the communal area is currently empty, Tony yells at Jarvis to take it down with panicked hysteria. 

"It appears Mr Parker has sent you a-"

"I know what it is!" Tony snaps, jumping up. He stalks towards the elevator and punches in the number for the penthouse. 

Heart pounding, Tony tries to justify why Peter would send him a naked picture of himself. The split second he'd seen of it before he ordered Jarvis to remove it hadn't been enough for him to ascertain anything except that the kid was definitely, 100%, not safe for work and not safe for Tony. 

"Jarvis, bring Peter's message up in the bedroom," Tony instructs, "and block any calls and messages not from Peter for the next hour."

Tony shuts himself in his room and drops onto the end of the bed. Peter's photo is already waiting for him on the large screen mounted on the wall.

It's obscene. 

Tony crushes his hands together under his chin and studies the image. Peter's not naked like Tony had initially thought, oh no, he's in  _panties_. Red lace panties that show the peak of skin underneath and draw Tony's eyes to the head of Peter's cock, appearing just above the delicate band.

Precome has dribbled down the side of Peter's cock and left a small wet patch on the fabric. There's so much more to the picture but Tony can't take his eyes away from the pretty pink cocklet head beginning to be freed from its confines.

With a groan, Tony flicks open his pants and grinds his hand down onto his dick. It's fattening up as his eyes flick across the screen taking in everything greedily. The curve of Peter's back, the long line of his back giving way to the little curve of his tight ass.

Everything about Peter looks tight. In the spidersuit Peter looks skinny. Naked his body reveals lithe muscles. A secret strength that has more to do with his acrobatic fighting style than it does super human abilities.

Peter has lines of definition that Tony wants to dig his teeth and fingers into. The contrast between the soft lace and the dangerous cut of his body has Tony gripping his cock tighter and huffing out a gasp.

Suddenly everything seems so clear.

Tony was an absolute idiot. Peter hadn't been practicing his flirting skills on someone he felt safe with. The little shit had been trying to seduce him. Evidently, having grown tired of his failed attempts he'd gone straight for the jugular.

Tony had to hand it to him, the kid knew what he wanted.

And now so did Tony.

Stripping out of his clothes, Tony crawled into the center of the bed. He keeps one hand on his cock and the other fishes around in the bedside table for one of the tablets he keeps in every room.

He keeps his eyes on Peter's photo as he strokes himself to full hardness. The last time he'd indulged himself in this it had been driven purely by his imagination. 

Now he had stimulus and everything felt a thousand times heightened without his brain fighting to construct a fantasy as he chased his pleasure.

Eyes fixed on the way Peter's lower lip was caught between his teeth, Tony snaps a photo of his own and has to grip the base of his cock to calm himself down. He loads the image up into a message and punches out a reply to Peter.

He's spent way too much time overthinking. Maybe it was time to take a page out of Peter's book and jump in head first, no qualms. He sent the text and image, hoping the night would end with more than a photo to keep his hand company. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up they're going to do The Sex. 
> 
> Also if ya'll know anything about html on AO3 I'm still having troubles linking to the original post I saw on tumblr (that this fic is based on). I want to credit them PLEASE.
> 
> I'm using the correct code but for some reason it keeps adding rel=no follow when I Preview and Post. I go back in and delete it, then Preview or Post and it's added it back in again. TT^TT


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dudes, this was not supposed to be this long but here we are.

The anxiety creeps up Peter’s back right as he approaches Stark Tower.

While a part of him had been mildly annoyed at having to trek half way across New York city to get back to the place he’d been a mere three hours ago, the rest of his body had been overwhelmed with anticipation. He didn’t even register the passing stations, only snapping out of his stupor when his stop was announced.

Any other day he might have been hyper-aware of himself, red lace hidden under his jeans like a dirty secret. But with a picture of Tony Stark’s ready and willing cock weighing his phone down heavy in his pocket, his self-awareness was pretty shot. It was a close thing that he didn’t trip over his own feet in his haste to exit the cart.

It’s the last remnants of sunlight bouncing off the Stark Tower exterior, Peter’s struck by how much of a bad idea this could be.

As much as he wants to throw open the door and fall into Tony’s arms, he doesn’t want a once off.

He doesn’t want to be bother notch in Tony’s bed post.

Peter’s struck by immediate guilt following the thought. He knows Tony’s not like that anymore. Not since he and Pepper parted ways, better as friends than lovers. Peter maybe be young but he knows having and losing Pepper’s love changed Tony just as much as the arc reactor has.

Being loved by the masses is incomparable to the love of that one person who sits at the center of your universe.

Peter _gets it,_ okay. He understands even though he hasn’t lived it yet. For him it’s been that impossible fantasy consuming his thoughts every spare moment. The desire to belong to Tony, to have him reciprocate his feelings and the fear that it would ruin what they have. The fear that Peter could lose the first person he’s ever felt he could fall in love with.

The fear that tells him Tony just wants to fuck him and nothing else.

He’s in the elevator debating whether to turn around and go home for the second time today without saying anything to Tony when the doors open and Tony’s right there in front of him waiting.

Jarvis must have informed him of Peter’s arrival, Peter thinks dumbly, hand gripping the strap of his backpack knuckle white.

Tony’s hair is in disarray, like he’s combed his fingers through it and tugged sharply. He seems just as unsure as Peter is, standing in the elevator doorway blinking uselessly.

They’re startled into action when the elevator starts beeping in warning. The doors attempt to slide shut on Tony and before he can snap out a command to Jarvis, Peter makes the decision and hurries forward into the penthouse.

He doesn’t look behind him to check if Tony’s following, just plows forward stopping only to kick off his sneakers in the hall.

Peter stops right before what he thinks is Tony’s bedroom. He’s not entirely sure, it’s not a place he’s ever been before but the half open door reveals a king size bed and that’s more than enough for what they’re going to do.

The thought gives Peter goosebumps.

“Where are you going, kid?” Tony asks from behind, much closer than Peter expected. So close it makes Peter wonder where the hell his senses have gone.

Peter looks over his shoulder and Tony’s _right there_ , barely a foot away. “This your room?”

Tony nods, dark eyes unwavering and intent. From this close Peter can smell the engine oil still clinging to his skin from earlier. By this point the scent is a strong arousal trigger and the slow burn that has been under his skin since the text message, kicks his dick up to a solid half-chub.

This is it then.

Peter swallows hard and shrugs his back pack off, tossing it onto the ground by the door. He follows it up by pulling his shirt up over his head and dropping it down onto the bag. It’s not seductive by any standards but so far seductive hadn’t got through to Tony Stark the way explicit intent had.

Tony coughs sharply when Peter straightens. “You sure you don’t want to talk about this first?”

Peter spins and shoots Tony a look of surprise. That’s not what he’d expected to hear.

“Talk about what?” He asks because he has to know. He has to know what Tony wants from this. Whatever _this_ is going to be.

Tony closes his eyes and rubs them with his left hand. It’s a movement Peter’s seen him do before when he’s testing the older man’s patience. Seeing it here, now, makes him nervous. Like they haven’t even touched and he’s already done the wrong thing.

His fingers twitch towards his shirt. He instantly wishes he hadn’t pulled it off and left himself vulnerable. He settles for folding his arms over his chest and tucking his hands away so Tony can’t see how nervous he really is.

“Peter,” Tony starts gently, dropping his hand, “what exactly do you want?”

Peter looks away. “That’s a loaded question.”

He feels Tony close the space between him. He reaches out and pulls Peter towards him, turning him so he has no choice but to face his mentor.

There’s nowhere to hide now, with Tony holding his shoulders. They’re the same height so Peter’s eyes have nowhere to look but into the dark depths of Tony’s irises.

Peter feel’s one of Tony’s hands slide up his bare shoulder and neck to cup the side of his face. His eyes flutter closed and he leans into the touch, every nerve in his body screaming _finally_.

“We’ve both been making a lot of assumptions lately,” Tony says lowly, thumb stroking over Peter’s cheek. “and it got us no-where.”

“It got us here.”

Tony laughs brightly and Peter has to open his eyes so he can catch it. “No, you got us here. Now you need to tell me what you want.”

Tony is so close. There’s an inch of space between them like this. Peter’s struggling to follow along with the conversation with Tony touching him and the brush of his shirt against Peter’s bare chest.

He somehow manages to keep his eyes open and not hide in embarrassment when he answers.

“You. The only thing I want is you.”

Tony smiles wryly and it’s not the response Peter is expecting. “I know you want me, kid but what do you want _from_ me?”

 _Everything_ is what he wants to say. Everything Tony has. Everything he is. Peter wants it all and frighteningly he wants it forever. He doesn’t want to think about any other outcome of this than the ones that end with Tony by his side, always. As his support, his backup, his mentor and his friend.

“Whatever you’ll give me,” is what he says instead.

Tony’s not an idiot. He must read what Peter doesn’t say because his expression grows serious and he brings their foreheads together.

“I’d give you anything, Peter,” Tony promises, eyes squeezed shut, “all you have to do is ask. You just have to ask.”

It’s enough of a declaration for Peter. His chest aches and he feels tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. If he’d thought sending Tony a picture of his dick would have ended up here, he would have done it weeks ago.

It’s so easy now, for Peter to pull Tony close to him. To bring his own hands up to the older man’s face and drag him in for a kiss. Kissing Tony is the easiest thing in the world and it’s abruptly clear to Peter he could see himself doing this for the rest of his life.

Tony kisses like he’s afraid Peter’s going to leave. He holds him firmly in his arms, muscles hard as stone from working in the garage. There’s no room for Peter to move anything except his head and he feels dizzy with how safe that thought makes him.

The scratch of stubble sends thrills down Peter’s neck. Tony has to loosen his hold so he can brush down further, rubbing his beard and kisses across Peter’s chest. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. He grabs Tony by his head and pulls him back up to his mouth, eager tongue flicking out and enticing the older man back in.

“Do you know how hard it’s been pretending not to notice you,” Tony whispers against his wet lips He draws Peter’s lower lip in and bites the lush meat, then lathing over it wetly as Peter squirms beneath him. “Every time you licked your lips I wanted to grab you by the back of the neck and push you face first into my lap.”

Peter laughs weakly. He twines his arms around Tony’s neck and takes an unsteady step backwards, bringing them to the entrance of the bedroom.

“You’ve got a good poker-face. I never would have guessed.”

Some bitterness works its way into his words and Tony doesn’t hesitate to kiss it all away, covering his faces in pecks until Peter has to tuck his face into Tony’s shoulder to escape.

“I’m here now,” Tony reminds him, “that’s what matters.”

There’s a million things Peter wants to say in response but they’re stolen away when Tony bends at the knees to grab him and scoop him up and over the threshold, bridal style.

“Oh my god, don’t drop me!”

Tony huffs and drops him on the end of the bed a little more roughly than necessary. “You pack a lot more weight than it seems.”

Peter’s about to protest to the density of muscle versus body fat when he realizes Tony’s fixated on his chest again. Placing one large hand in the center of Peter’s chest, Tony pushes gently but firmly, sending Peter down onto his back.

Peter can only watch with wide eyes as Tony strips out of his own shirt, arc reactor glowing a brilliant blue, and crawls onto Peter’s lap. Tony straddles him, hands reaching out to grip Peter’s narrow waist. There’s a single hand breadth between Tony’s two thumbs and although they’re the same height, the difference in their sizes makes Peter’s breath hitch.

Peter tries to sit up on his elbows so he can reach Tony for a kiss but he’s pushed back down rudely.

Tony runs a hand down the defined lines of Peter’s body, as if memorizing each dip and crevice. “When I saw the photo you’d send me the first thought I had was of rubbing off on you,” he confesses, thumb dipping into the middle line of Peter’s abs.

“I’d do it just like this.” Tony rocks forward, rubbing his ass against Peter’s crotch as he rubs the front of his jeans against Peter’s stomach. “I wouldn’t even bother getting undressed. I’d just take my cock out and rub against your abs until I came.”

“What about me?” Peter asks breathlessly, hands twisting into the sheets.

Tony must be able to feel how hard Peter every time he slides backwards. He has to know because he grins at Peter and rocks back against the bulge in his jeans mercilessly. ‘

“If I was feeling mean I’d just ride you like this until you came in your pants. If I was feeling nice, I’d let you fuck me.”

Peter chokes on a moan and grabs Tony roughly. He yanks the older man down, swallowing the laughter and forcing him to crush their bodies together searching for relief.

Tony’s all too obliging. He man handles Peter into spreading his legs, settling between them so Peter can hook his knees over Tony’s hips. It’s an awkward position in jeans and while the kissing and touching has Peter riding a high, his cock is straining painfully against lace and the metal of his zipper.

“Tony, please,” he whimpers, breaking their kiss. Tony slides his lips down Peter’s face to bite sharply on the lobe of his ear.

“What do you need, baby?”

“It hurts, my jeans-” Peter loses his train of thought as Tony whirls his tongue around the shell of his ear and bites down again. It doesn’t matter though, Tony’s on it, deft fingers going straight to Peter’s front and flicking open the button.

Tony draws the zipper down and delves inside. He shudders hard against Peter when he comes into contact with Peter’s dick and pulls back to look down between them.

“You wore them,” he says, wonder colouring his tone.

Suddenly, Peter feels strangely shy. “You asked me to.”

Tony looks up and away from where the red panties are peaking out of the top of Peter’s jeans and gives him a sharp toothed grin.

“You’re going to be the death of me, kid.”

They separate just long enough for Tony to yank Peter’s jeans down his legs and throw them over his shoulder. He stands at the edge of the bed transfixed by the vision Peter presents before him. Peter’s not really interested in being viewed like a piece of art thought. He’s always been more of an interactive piece kind of guy.

He scrambles to his knees on the bed, trying to ignore how visible his hardon is through the sheer red lace and starts in on Tony’s jeans.

“You too.” He orders, yanking down Tony’s briefs along the way. It’s not really his intention but once it’s done its done and Tony’s standing in front of Peter, with his hard cock right in his line of sight.

He knows he’s staring. Tony’s hand comes under his chin to guide his gaze upwards and its so hard to tear his attention away from his cock.

“We go as fast or slow as you want,” Tony tells him softly. He’s looking at Peter so tenderly, it quells a lot of the remaining nerves he’d been battling against. Peter’s never been on the receiving end of that kind of look, in fact he’s never been on the receiving end of-

He should probably mention that to Tony.

Peter licks his lips, watching the way Tony tracks the movement, hand flexing on Peter’s neck almost threateningly.

“I’ve never–”

Tony presses a finger to his mouth to silence him. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Right now, it’s just me and you.” He lets the finger slides away from Peter’s lips and he bends down to kiss him reassuringly.

Peter takes the chance to pull him back down onto the bed. As much as he wants to get his mouth on Tony’s cock, something he’s dreamed about way too many times, it seems daunting in reality. He wants this to be exactly what Tony is promising him. The two of them face to face.

The only thing between them now is the flimsy red lace of Peter’s panties and Tony moves towards them like he has a mission. He grabs Peter’s hands and places them in his hair with a wicked grin.

“You might want to hold on.”

Peter’s fingers tighten their hold the second Tony’s mouth descends to his cock. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. Tony’s mouth is hot and warm, sucking messily at the hard length behind the barely there fabric.

Peter’s struggling to control himself, the balls of his feet digging into the mattress in an effort not to thrust into Tony’s mouth. Meanwhile, Tony is taking his fucking time. He drags long licks up the front of the panties, wandering digits slipping beneath the elastic on the side to fondle Peter’s balls.

Tony lifts the material out of the way, presses his palm flat and hard against Peter’s cock, and sucks on of the balls into his mouth.

Peter yanks on Tony’s hair ruthlessly, torn between wanting to pull him off and wanting to shove him back down. Peering down his body he can see the flush spread across his chest, stomach rippling with tension whenever Tony sucks particularly hard.

“Roll over,” Tony orders, sinking his teeth into the solid muscle of Peter’s thigh.

Peter exhales shakily and frowns. “I want to be able to see you.”

“You will, I promise, I just–.” Tony shoves his hands under Peter’s ass and squeezes. “I want to see the back properly.”

Peter scrambles to obey, flipping himself over even as he feels his flush deepen. He tries to imagine what Tony’s seeing. The naked expanse of his back, red lace stretched across his ass, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s most of what had been visible in the photo he’d sent but this – this was real.

Tony guides his legs gentle so he’s half kneeling, ass lifted in the older man’s direction. He’s whispering things into Peter’s skin that he can barely hear but he feels them. He feels the words kissed into his skin with reverence. Tony seems torn between wanting to bite Peter’s ass or dig his fingers into it so hard they form bruises.

Peter’s not entirely sure which one he prefers either, both of them making his dick leaks out of the panties and onto the blankets.

Tony’s a warm presence over Peter’s back, hands and mouth worshiping every inch of his backside and thighs. It’s maddeningly tender and as much as Peter’s enjoying it, he wants to get the show on the road.

“Tony, please.”

Behind him, Tony groans into his lower back. He’s slipped his thumbs under the bottom of the panties and spread Peter’s cheeks apart so he can peer inside. One thumb creeps forward and rubs as the softness hidden there.

“What do you want, baby?” Tony pants, his other thumb working its way under the panties to join in stretching Peter’s hole without penetrating it. His breath huffs over where he’s gently opening Peter up and the younger man chokes on any response he has.

“Fuck me,” Peter pleads, rocking back into Tony’s hands.

Tony moves his hands away and blankets Peter’s back with his chest. Dropping his head down to Peter’s ear, he whispers “what’s the magic word?”.

Peter’s going to fucking kill him.

“ _Please,”_ Peter says. He turns his lips towards Tony’s and adds for good measure; “ _Mr Stark.”_

Tony swears and flips Peter over. He catches the triumphant grin on Peter’s face and shakes his head knowingly. It’s not Peter’s fault that he’s finally worked out how to play the older man like a fiddle.

Peter wriggles out of the panties with little assistance from Tony. The older man just watches eagerly as Peter’s cock is freed from the confines of the fabric and gives a little wave to the panties as they go flying across the room to join the rest of their clothes.

“Can you open me up?” Peter asks when Tony uses the interim to grab some lube. It’s a familiar task, something he could probably do quicker and better than Tony purely because of practice. That’s not what he wants right now though.

Now they’re on the right flight path, Tony wastes no time slicking his fingers up and probing at Peter’s entrance. Lying between Peter’s legs, face to face, means it’s a little tricky for him get the right angle. He has to nudge Peter’s legs wider, pulling knee up and hooking it over his arm so he can use the free space to move his hand.

One finger slips in slow and easy and it’s not that different to when Peter does it for himself except Tony’s _holding him_ and _kissing him_ as he works a second finger in, stretching to make space for himself. He murmurs gentle encouragement as he curls his fingers around, searching for that spot to make Peter writhe harder beneath him.

“Don’t– just get inside me,” Peter huffs when it’s apparent Tony’s going to take his time again, trying to find is prostate. They’ll have all the time in the world _later_. Right now Peter just wants to seal the deal.

“You’re so impatient,” Tony hums. He adds in a third finger just to shut Peter up. In hindsight Peter’s glad he didn’t rush the other man because the third finger is a tight squeeze that brings a slight bite of pain. He can’t help the whimper that slips out, his fingers tightening their painful grip on Tony’s arms.

It’s eclipsed by Tony finally finding what he was looking for. He brushes against it gently and Peter groans, fingers flexing. He suffers through the pleasurable pain of Tony stretching his fingers out, scissoring him open and alternating with pressing against that spot inside him that makes him want to fold in half.

“Put this on me, sweetheart, I don’t want to let go of you.” With his other hand Tony manages to drop a condom onto Peter’s chest. It’s hard for Peter to concentrate on opening the wrapper when Tony doesn’t bother to stop fingering him.

It’s a miracle that he doesn’t tear it and manages to get it onto the head of Tony’s cock with shaking hands.

He realizes as he glides it down and pulls a moan out of Tony, it’s the first time he’s actually touched the other man’s cock. He can’t resist, once the condoms down he squeezes experimentally, watching Tony’s face carefully for a reaction.

Tony’s eyes snap shut and his fingers still inside Peter for the first time.

“We need to get this show on the road. I don’t think I’m going to last as long as I’d hoped to.”

And Peter is one hundred percent on board with that. He’s hoping for it, given he’s pretty sure he’s going to blow his load the moment Tony’s seated inside him.

Tony slips his fingers out and lowers the leg he’s been holding onto. Peter’s abruptly aware that this is when it happens. This is when everything will change.

He fists the back of Tony’s hair and pulls him down for another heated kiss, sucking on the older man’s tongue as he wraps his legs around Tony’s lower back. He breaks the kiss and licks at the sweat on Tony’s temple.

There’s nowhere to look but directly into Tony’s eyes as the head of his cock presses against Peter’s ass. The deep brown is fathomless and lures him in like a blackhole, vision starring white as Tony slides firmly into the hilt.

The burning stretch is mostly drowned out by the building pleasure in his stomach. As Tony presses in as far as he can go, his lower body drops down to crush Peter’s cock between them. Luckily, Peter’s got enough pre-come leaking out of his cock that rubbing against Tony’s lower body is the exact kind of relief he needs to keep the party going.

Tony pulls out an inch and then eases back in, gaze intent on Peter’s face. He doesn’t need to worry though, Peter feels like he’s transcended to another plane of existence.

Everything dissolves from there. Tony’s carefulness slips away and he starts fucking into Peter, hard and rough, while his hands knot themselves into the bedsheets on either side of Peter’s head.

His dark eyes keep shuttering closed and then flashing open, like he’s torn between being swept away with the feeling of Peter milking him with every stroke and wanting to watch Peter’s expression as he rubs off against Tony’s body.

Peter spurs him on, clamping his legs tighter around Tony’s body to draw him in deeper. He can feel that familiar sensation coaxing itself up to rise in his body with every thrust. It’s a rhythmic wave, cresting without spilling over until Tony slams in hard and grinds up into Peter’s body.

It’s all over just like that, Peter shooting up his body into that tight space between him and Tony. Come splashes up his neck but he can’t bring himself to care as he rides it out, Tony rocking gently into him with every spasm. It’s the strongest orgasm he can ever recall happening and with every movement Tony makes it’s pro-longed.

“That’s it, baby,” Tony murmurs into his lips, “let me make you feel good.”

Peter feels himself go limp. All the tension in his body simply bleeds out and he’s hanging off Tony like a limp noodle.

Tony chuckles when Peter buries his face in the older man’s neck, trying to hide the tears escaping out of the corner of his eyes. Peter mouths at Tony’s ear, trying to get him to start moving again.

Now he’s had his release, he’s entirely focused on Tony. He lifts his hips up and back, dragging Tony’s cock out by the barest inch.

“Come on, Mr Stark,” Peter coaxes, grinning when Tony bites playfully at his neck in retaliation.

Tony only offers Peter a couple slow shallow thrusts before he’s picking his pace back up. With the air of anticipation gone, Peter’s able to enjoy every single sensation in finite detail. High on endorphins he luxuriates in the way Tony’s cock stretches him open, the way it’s hardness spears through him and doesn’t stop until Tony’s grinding in further, like he can’t get deep enough.

He feels his cheeks start to pinken and his cock twitch with renewed interest far too quickly when Tony’s hold around him tightens to a pinch. Tony bites out what might be a warning, caught off-guard by his own orgasm and stills.

Peter strokes his hands town Tony’s back.

“You can’t call me that in public ever again,” Tony says eventually, slumping to the side.

Peter watches him, hand following to rest just above the arc reactor. It’s humming happily beneath his touch, warm and bright. “Why not?”

Tony looks over at him, hair messy and eyes still slightly glazed. “I will not be held responsible for any rogue response my dick has to what you call me.”

Peter laughs, eyes crinkling with happiness. They lie like that beside each other for what feels like hours but is probably only ten minutes. Eventually, Tony lifts his hand to tangle it in Peter’s and bring it to his lips to kiss.

“I hope you realise you can’t ever leave me now.”

Peter stares at him in surprise. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore. Not after tonight.

“How so?” He asks, voice a little higher than usual.

Tony grins. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been with who Pepper would actually approve of.”

Peter squawks and scrabbles for the closest pillow to throw in Tony’s face. There’s a brief tussle that ends with Peter on Tony’s lap, holding the pillow threateningly above his shoulder ready to throw down.

“I’m kidding!” Tony laughs, holding up his hands in mercy. Peter narrows his eyes but lowers the pillow.

Quick as a flash, Tony wraps a hand around Peter’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. “No really, you can’t ever leave. There’s no-one else on this world like you Peter Parker, the kid who saves the world by day and sends pervy old men elicit pictures of himself by night.”

Peter’s heart feels like it couldn’t be any fuller even as he glares down at Tony.

“Got you to finally notice me, though didn’t it?”

Tony draws him in for another kiss and Peter realizes talking time is over.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this 4.5K chapter in one sitting so RIP anyone who notices any mistakes I'm sorry but not sorry enough to fix any of it. 
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful support through this, it's been a great welcome back to the fan fic world! :)
> 
> If you want to follow what I do next (I'm still working that out tbh) [I'm on Tumblr here](www.ablissofboys.tumblr.com/)


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